Небу легче

- I'm tired. Tired to compress temples from an intolerable pain in a brain somewhere. Tired to fall on my knees, hardly having closed a bathroom door. Tired to beat palms about a tiled floor, smashing internal monologues...

- You lived perfectly before you have met me. So what happens? What is not well for you?

- Having met you, I have seen the world in colors. And I was happy, without giving myself the report on why I feel happy. And then... The happiness comes to an end in this way probably.

- What happiness?! There was nothing between us! What have you invented to yourself?!

- I simply tell you how the happiness comes to an end. When you clamp your mouth with palms for not to shout from an intolerable heartache. When you bury in a pillow so that it is not possible to breathe. When you take a shower more often, than it is necessary, and longer, than usual - only to occupy yourself, and to be alone... When tangerines appear unique products in the refrigerator on a winter holiday... When every month is perceived as a possible long-awaited meeting only - unique. But also it does not happen. When you know, how all will be – to the slightest step, to casual sob, to each new word - but in dreams...

- Nothing will happen, do you understand? I am not free. And I do not love you.

- The one way ticket, my dear. You understand once suddenly – hope that I have a dreadful dream, and I`m just about to wake up – this hope is not present already. There are the terms, oral and mental. There are the dates – learned and exact. There are the people – who really make life of the one who can give you happiness. These are those who are in your life. But not in mine. My life is absolutely empty...

- You rave. I do not understand what you tell. Are you drunk?

- No. I do not drink anymore. You are not with me, so I get mad. You know, I have realized suddenly - only you can hold my hand so that I would like to laugh with happiness. I was happy, having tried it...
Only with you all emotions, unknown to my soul earlier, are subject to me. Only with you I would learn to fly.

- What do you want from me?

- I do not want to live in a world without you.

"In the dark" 2011 (c)


Я запомню день этот. До смерти запомню, я знаю.
И ещё буду помнить дорогу, меня уводящую вдаль.
Саму себя за рулём, вообразившую, что я улетаю,
Куда-то туда, где душу на части не рвёт печаль.

Золотые деревья, что вдоль дороги - как стража,
Реку мутную, ставшую зеркалом серому этому небу.
Разметку асфальта, что скоро покрышки размажут,
И воздух прозрачный, струящийся вверх, к Фебу.

Ещё я запомню, как я опять - спидометр положила,
Как стремилась - за горизонт, к чертям, далеко.
И как я остановиться внезапно зачем-то решила,
Хотя очень хотелось взлететь - навсегда, высоко.

Был разворот в моём стиле, через двойную сплошую.
Для чего-то вернулась вновь в город, стою у реки.
Вижу, как листья летят и камни о чём-то тоскуют,
Не чувствую холода - меня греет память твоей руки.

Потом осеннее серое небо спускается ниже и ниже,
И оно закрывает крыши собой, опирается на мосты.
А я вдруг понимаю, что небо тоже пытается выжить.
Небу легче, любимый. Потому что у неба есть ты.